


Ohhh yes

by mouseinthemidnight, yourKitty



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 13:01:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15340425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mouseinthemidnight/pseuds/mouseinthemidnight, https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourKitty/pseuds/yourKitty
Summary: When you get caught sneaking backstage at the Underground's one and only superstar's performance, you never expected to be invited to spend time with him!





	Ohhh yes

The arena shook with the force of booming, speaker-blasting music. Monsters were crammed into rows of seats, in zealous anticipation of the show that was soon to take place on the stage they faced.

 

You shared in their vigorous excitement as you awaited the star of the show. For weeks, this had been the only thing on your mind. The opportunity was arguably worth the wallet-depriving price. 

 

Purple smoke poured out and stretched from the sides of and across the stage. The lights above began to pan around and flash, while the music surged deeper. Fans began to squeal from the front row when they managed to make out a silhouette strutting out from the intense mist. 

 

There he was -- the man of the hour. Not a man, clearly, but an intricate and gaudy humanoid robot. The one you and all those who filled the coliseum idealized. It certainly wasn’t hard to do, especially in a world unknown, without the same overhyped celebrities meant to be taken as role models. But this one: he was genuine, and you knew it. 

 

“Ohhhhhh,  _ YES _ .” The low, silky, baritone voice dripping with honey came floating out from the mist, followed by the metallic face adorned with a seductive smirk. A number of people surrounding you immediately began to swoon.

 

You weren’t immune from his enchantment, as you became flustered yourself. 

 

“Hellooooo, my beauties!” Mettaton stretched out one leg in front of him, and twirled the wire of the microphone he held in his right hand around the index finger of his left. “Are you ready for the show of your LIFE~?” His deep, satiny tone soared, echoing melodiously on the speakers that dotted the coliseum walls.

 

The crowed roared with aching anticipation, unable to stall any longer to experience this perfectly flashy performance. One that you would definitely remember for the rest of your life. You’ve been yearning for months to experience this. 

 

A new song began to pulsate from the speakers, the solid, fast-paced beat reverberating through your body and sending chills down your spine. Mettaton began to dance and twirl around the stage, kicking out his slender legs and tucking his metal arms behind his head of perfectly styled raven hair.

 

The show was over, a bit too soon for your liking, and you watched him dissolve from the stage. You wanted so desperately to sneak behind-the-scenes, and that’s what you were going to do.

 

You managed to slip through a tight, rolling crowd of fans who were lining up to purchase copies of Mettaton’s autograph at designated tables, and headed carefully towards the backstage. Your heart nearly stopped when you thought a burly, eight-legged security guard had spotted you, but to your fortune, he was distracted by a pair of monster girls with valley-girl accents, and you were able to duck safely into the backstage.

 

You searched, almost frantically, to discern Mettaton’s location, and it didn’t take long. He looked just as flawless in person as he did on stage and on television. 

 

The pink-and-purple clad robot was gazing into a mirror. One might have expected him to be vainly fiddling with his hair or fussing over some aspect of his appearance. After all, no one else could get enough of him-- how could he, right? Instead of admiring himself, however, his brows were knit together while he frowned at his reflection, almost as if he were contemplating his own self-worth.

 

You didn’t understand his actions. So self-conscious. Almost as if he were normal, like the rest of us. Unimaginable. You appreciated it in a way, but it didn’t alleviate your nervous demeanor or give you the courage to approach him. 

 

He turned to the side, away from the mirror, and sighed deeply, bowing his head and closing his eyes in frustration. When he sat up straight again and opened his magenta eyes, he spotted you. “Oh. Well, hello, there.”

 

The only thing you could do was to squeak out a short, insignificant greeting, and glanced to the side to take in the dim surroundings. However, you kept a genuine smile on your face, understanding you looked so inferior compared to his perfection, having a lot to do with your uncharacteristically meek behaviour. 

 

Mettaton took note of your shyness, and, although he was more used to his fans being extroverted, he showed no sign of uncertainty regarding how to communicate with you. He let his hand fall in a smooth motion to rest on his left hip, raising his right shoulder to meet with his turned cheek. A coy glitter shone out from beneath his long eyelashes. “Oh, my. Did you sneak back here?”

 

He caught you without hesitation, and there was no desire in you to lie. So, you went on to admit it, but you couldn’t finish that before a prying apology streamed slowly from your speech. The anxiety of his mere presence had gotten the better of you, somehow. 

 

“Tsk, tsk.” The robotic superstar clicked his tongue scoldingly, either ignoring your quiet apology or unable to hear it in the first place, and strolled over to you. “Well, now. You don’t look like a troublemaker to me.” His eyes traced every line of your figure studiously. “And since I’m in a good mood, I suppose I can make an exception for you this time.” He gave you a toothy smirk. “After all, you were so desperate to see me.~”

 

You were in disbelief at his salacious behaviour, stepping back to escape the proximity, failing to utter another shaky word. Of course he behaved this way in his shows, but you never expected it of him in a personal situation, and you couldn’t expect what he would do next. The extent to which you wanted him to continue this way was borderline humiliating. 

 

“Mmmhh…” He eyed you for a moment or so longer, before turning on his heel with a flip of his hair and striding towards a stool to take a seat. “Talk much, darling?”

 

Scoffing and rolling your eyes was your base instinct at that time, but you had no itch to be rude to the only idol you had; one that you loved to no end, unfortunately. He had a point, though, because you didn’t respond. 

 

Mettaton crossed one knee over the other as he sat, stretching out his ankles so that his toes pointed towards the floor in a ballerina-like fashion. “So, tell me what you’d like. An autograph? An interview? A photo together?”

 

“I just wanted to see you.” Replying confidently, you lifted your gaze to him, in an attempt to resolve all the subsequent action. Continuing, “That’s honestly all I wanted. I mean, maybe something, but, I’m not...” you paused, about to insult the vapid fanbase, but understood that wasn’t smart, “I’m not like that, is what I mean.” 

 

“Not like what, darling?” He rested his chin on the backside of his hand, the elbow of which balanced delicately on his kneecap. There was no expression on his face this time, so you weren’t sure if he was leading you on or being completely innocent.

 

However, you expected him to be devious, so you remained defensive.  “I mean… I’m… not like your other fans… I’m not here to force you to like me or anything…” You tried to explain politely, wanting to express that you weren’t vain and didn’t need to bolster your own self-worth from his validation, but you were unsure how to word that diplomatically. Although you succeeded in feigning disinterest, you happened to stay, engulfed in curiosity about where this would lead.

 

“Ah. I see what you mean.” Mettaton straightened his back and uncrossed his legs, gripping the sides of the stool gently with his hands. “You just wanted to have a talk with little old me? I’m flattered.” He ran one hand through the bangs that covered his right eye. You thought you almost caught a glimpse of the eye that was hidden behind these bangs, but in a split second the bangs were covering it again. “I haven’t had a conversation with a fan that hasn't ended with them trying to pin me down in ages. Not to complain, that is.” He performed a closed-mouth chuckle, which resulted in a low  _ hmm-hmm-hmm _ .

 

That’s what you anticipated. Apologizing for that behaviour that he’s become so begrudgingly accustomed to, you turned away again, crossing your arms tightly, but never demonstrated any degree of annoyance or impatience. In a hurry, you announced your leave as you leaned forward and began to step back, heels clicking to the shining checked tile. 

 

“Well, what’s your hurry? We’ve got time…” Mettaton called after you as you began to step away from him. There was a hint of desperation in his voice now. Did he realize you had only been attempting to offer him friendship? Was that another thing he hadn’t experienced in ages? “Stay a while… I’ll make you a cup of coffee.”

 

“I didn’t want to bother you; I know you must get this all the time and it must be annoying.” But, you didn’t want to reject such an offer. Carefully, you sat on an available folding stool and waited for him to act. 

 

Mettaton turned to a coffee-maker that had been placed on a table in the corner, evidently meant for the show’s crew. You assumed that the robot himself could not drink the beverage. As his back was turned to you, you thought you heard him sigh in relief. He cast a glance at you over his shoulder. “Cream and sugar, darling?”

 

“Yeah. Please. Um,” you struggled to find more words, “thank you.” What else could you say? This entire situation was unthought of for you. 

 

He returned, handing the cup of coffee to you, heels clicking softly as he cat-walked. The way he moved, you saw now, wasn’t put on or any attempt to flirt. It was his natural movement. His eyes met yours, almost apologetically. “Here you are… I hope you enjoy it.”

 

You thanked him for his unadorned, genuine hospitality. Taking a hefty sip, you were also impressed by the coffee. You were still in a slight rush to leave, expecting him to seem bothered by your inferior presence. You weren’t the most glamorous, but you weren’t so bad, really. Who could even live up to the unattainable standards he set? 

 

Mettaton pulled the stool up to sit directly in front of you. He opened his legs slightly and gripped the stool between them, in a slightly abashed position. “So… you’re… an old fan of mine…?” He didn’t seem to know how to initiate a conversation, given that he hadn’t had a proper one in so long.

 

“Yeah, ever since you started. And I’ve always wanted to meet you. Now I’m finally getting to do it.” Smiling, you reminisced on the memory of watching his first show. That was years ago, though, and now it held meaning. 

 

“Huh…” Mettaton gained somewhat of a wistful expression, also reminiscing of that time. “Long time ago… back when Alphys… and… and Blooky…” He bowed his again, slightly, a pained expression replacing the previous one.

 

You refrained from continuing to lean forward and listen, to discern if he would go on. 

 

“Well… never mind… it’s too late for regrets now.” He lifted his head again and flipped his hair slightly, yet weakly. “Show must go on, eh, darling?”

 

Reluctantly, you agreed with his rhetorical statement, as if you wanted him to explain and confide in you. 

 

He was quick to attempt to change the subject. “Well… er… how would you like to be on my show?”

 

“In it, you said?” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. He asked  _ you _ . A long “uh” was drawn out awkwardly to fill the silence, though your mind was clouded with the possibility. 

 

“Y-yes! It would be interesting to have some fan representation in the show.” Mettaton nodded, sounding more enthused about the idea with each word.

 

“I can’t believe it!” You couldn’t erase the ecstatic smile that took over your features. You went on to thank him; that was all you could do.  

 

“Fabulous!” He seemed to glow and sparkle with the same amount of ecstasy. “My next show starts in ten minutes, actually. We have to get you ready.” He took your hand and tugged you over to the dresser with the mirror that he had been gazing into when you had found him. “When I’m through with you, darling, you’re going to be even more beautiful than you already are.”

 

The fluorescent lights blinded you, deterring the innocently anxious blush you expressed into the mirror, moving on to eye the unfamiliar products on the dresser’s worn surface. You were beginning to regret your decision. … Hold on. “Beautiful?” You figured he was just playing his game.

 

Mettaton was gripping your shoulders from behind gently, leaning his head over your shoulder and smiling at your reflection. 

 

This made you strangely aroused, to an extent, and uneasy, but you accepted it and waited for him to begin with this whole makeover thing. 

 

It was likely fifteen minutes that passed before he was finished powdering your cheeks with blush and lining your eyelashes with just a hint of shadow. He seemed to be sparing with the makeup, using just enough to accentuate the features that you had already had. He took a step back to admire his work, tucking one arm under the other and cupping his face with the hand of the other arm. “What do you think? Do you love it? I love it.” He almost sounded like one of the gushing ladies who worked at your local hair salon back on the surface, eliciting a small giggle from you.

 

You looked back to your reflection, unable to repress a smile. “I love it.” 

 

Mettaton clapped his hands together once. “Then… it’s time for your debut, my darling!”

 

A rush of anxiety came over you again, and worsened as you stood to participate. You couldn’t deny him now. 

 

It must not have been hard to see that on your expression, because he reached to take your hand. His metal fingers intertwined with your soft ones. “Ah, I remember my first show… I was nervous, too.” He gave you that coquettish smirk from your initial encounter. Now, it was no longer salacious, but encouraging. “You’ll knock ‘em dead, darling!”

“Thank you. This means so much,” you were finally in the spirit to admit it. 

 

The curtains opened shortly, and Mettaton led you gently out onto the stage. He introduced you to the audience as his special guest, and they cheered. You weren’t sure if they were cheering for him, for you, or for both, but… it flattered you all the same. The robot superstar looked over at you and winked.

 

You felt your cheeks grow hot, but the show had to go on, so you powered through. 

 

The show did go on, and an audience member called in at Mettaton’s prompt to ask questions. The voice was soft, timid, unsure. Mettaton froze, seeming to recognize it instantly.

 

“ hi Mettaton… i really like watching your show… my life is pretty boring… but seeing you on the screen… brought excitement to my life vicariously… … oh…… I didn’t mean to talk for so long………”

 

The voice originated from a ghost-like creature, with gentle, oval eyes. Mettaton’s expression indicated a closeness that no one else could ever achieve with him. 

 

“ oh…….” The meek, ephemeral creature began to back away from the microphone.

 

“Come back,” you pleaded. 

 

“Wait, Bl-...” Mettaton stretched out a hand at the same moment you pleaded.

 

But he was gone. You glanced at Mettaton, whose demeanor subdued greatly, as if he would never return from this bout of depression. 

 

“I…” He bowed his head in the same way you had seen him bow when you had first snuck backstage. “I… thanks, everyone. No more questions tonight.”

 

The crowd let out a simultaneous demonstration of disappointment and exasperation. Mettaton stood from his seat, put on his best smile and most flawless wave, then turned heel and disappeared behind the falling curtains again.

 

You gained the courage to ask him if everything was alright, and not prying any deeper than that. 

 

“No.” Came his simple response from beneath his hair, which hung over his eyes as his head bowed. “That was Blooky.”

 

Concerned, you still couldn’t bring yourself to venture further into it, like who that was and why their presence elicited quite a response from him.  

 

“My cousin… I haven’t talked to him since before I went into show business…”

 

You inquired as to why that would be the case, tipping on the edge of sensitivity, sympathetically bracing yourself for a backstory of some sort. 

 

And a backstory there was, as Mettaton let it out all come rushing out of his mouth. He shared some of his most innermost feelings, those he had been keeping bottled up for so long.

 

It was refreshing to hear him admit his deepest secrets to you. You, and no one else, as you were convinced. Still, your sympathies were made clear as you moved to touch his arm as a means of support, unsure how he’d accept it. 

 

He seemed to accept the gesture, looking up and into your eyes.

 

“Hey, it’s alright.” 

 

“Thank you, darling…” His eyes lowered again for a moment, as if he weren’t entirely convinced by your words, despite being grateful.

 

You understood what he was feeling. There had been many a time when you had had doubts about yourself and the world around you. And if you had had someone there for you in those times… you would have wanted them to wrap their arms about you in a comforting embrace and hold you close.

 

You swallowed the anxiety that welled up from your chest and tightened your throat, and slowly reached to hug Mettaton. Your heart pounded furiously, and you were almost certain the beat reverberated against the diva’s metallic chest.

 

He looked down at you, magenta eyes widening in surprise, before he slowly moved his arms around you in return. Another second or two passed before you felt his chin rest lightly upon the crown of your head.

 

You adjusted slightly so that your head relaxed against his shoulder, feeling your heartbeat to slow and your body untense against his mechanical one. This was an embrace you had longed fantasized about, but never expected to actually happen. You had envisioned yourself gushing out many more romantic lines, but the peaceful atmosphere that existed as it was seemed to be enough for you both. The silence spoke volumes about the empathy and affection you held for him.

 

“We’ll find him again.” You finally spoke out, almost stunned to hear the sound of your own voice. “I’ll help you.”

 

“You’ve helped me far more than you know.” The kindly tone in his voice was something new, unlike anything you had heard from him before. “Thank you, (Y/N).”

 

“... you’re welcome, Mettaton.”


End file.
